


Grit

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 17:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18254165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: [Second person POV] Pepper reflects on her time at Stark Industries.





	Grit

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about Pepper lately. This is mostly gen, but with a Tony x Pepper bent.
> 
> I'm not sure where Pepper worked prior to SI, but for canon purposes I'm imagining it was the company where she worked with Aldrich Killian.
> 
> Seresia is a country I’ve invented; any resemblance to entities living, dead and/or with any ability to sue is unintentional xD

You can still remember how you got into this mess.

You stirred up trouble in your last workplace, where your daily routine involved fending off sexual advances and getting your ideas brushed aside.

The last straw was when you discovered certain higher-ups embezzling funds. You brought it up with your superior, and you were told it was not your place as a lowly account executive (with a great record, you recall - on track for a supervisory position) to be poking into the company's money flow, in the first place.

You were advised to keep your mouth shut. You tried going to other seniors in the company, only to be told the same thing. The same way you were advised, many, many times, to keep your mouth shut whenever someone's hand "accidentally" landed on your hair. Or your knee. Or when your bosses, even your peers, made innuendoes that definitely crossed some personal line that you'd set.

Keep quiet. Grit your teeth. For your own good.

So you resigned. You took up the offer of a headhunter to place you with Stark Industries.

 

***

 

You were going to be a personal assistant. In your eyes, it was sort of a step down from soon-to-be-senior-account-executive...but the pay was good, and so was the company.

You learned later that, despite the lack of references from your previous workplace, you were hired because your grades in university were stellar, because other tech execs knew you to be professional and efficient...and because you and your boss were roughly the same age.

Tony Stark had gone through a parade of personal assistants, and decided that someone around his age would be better able to relate to him.

There were whisperings, of course, that you got the spot just because you were pretty, and for no other reason - you just ignored them. Like you've ignored them all your life.

You tied your hair back, kept your head up, and did the work.

You got this.

 

***

 

Keeping up with Tony Stark was a challenge, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

You only needed a few months to get into his rhythm - which was hectic, erratic, and very, very avoidant.

He would try to get away from you and the responsibilities you threw at him at every opportunity, so you marked down his hiding places, until he had nowhere left to run. You would get used to telling people he was "not available," and handle their many different reactions as you saw fit.

Eventually, you would get used to picking up after him - literally. Even sometimes bodily carrying him to the car that would take him to his next appointment. And addressing his colleagues, business partners and underlings as if he was your partner, not your boss.

Which was exactly what he wanted, you learned. He wanted someone who didn't take his shit, but also let him do what he wanted - and at the same time, didn't leave him to suffer the fallout from his excesses alone.

Along the way, you also learned a lot about the tech industry from a management perspective. A _lot_.

As a lowly personal assistant, you had to keep quiet about all of it.

 

***

 

"I _understand_ that, but I'm not satisfied with _any_ of your suggestions," Tony Stark declared. "There's gotta be a way around this that won't involve closure. Give me something different, something new, come on, people!"

Sorely hung over, but ready to fight - story of his life, you learned early on. When he heard from you about layoffs, accidents at factories, people on the ground getting hurt one way or another, he actually didn't need your help to get ready for a meeting; sometimes, he even called those meetings himself.

"We can afford to lose a few stockholders," Tony was saying. "What we _can't_ afford is to lose the Seresian hub. Are you kidding? Are you aware of how brilliant those people are? Andy Kolisnyk works there! You remember how much he's done for us?"

One of the board members interrupted cautiously, "I understand the hub may have some sentimental value, but considering the political and economic instability there - "

 _"Sentimental value?"_ A loud argument broke out between Tony and the other directors after he shouted this.

Tony was outraged. He felt like no one was listening.

It was a familiar feeling for you. You knew that some directors treated Tony as a child - a symbolic head, who had signatory power but no actual decision-making capabilities.

And you knew that some of them only saw you as a toy - something Tony sometimes played with, and kept around for his own amusement.

You cleared your throat. The sound went unnoticed.

By everyone except Tony Stark.

"Miss Potts," he suddenly said loudly, gesturing to you. "Maybe you can provide some much-needed perspective here."

The room fell silent. All eyes were on you.

"Come on," he encouraged, "I can hear your gears turning." He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Spill."

You suddenly felt a chill run down your spine to the balls of your feet. You cleared your throat again.

You got this.

"The window is not closed for negotiating with the Seresian government," you almost stammered. "We can...actually take advantage of the political instability to further our interests in the region. We won't have to close the hub. If we play our cards right, we may even be able to expand."

Your boss frowned, but his eyes took on an intrigued sheen. He folded his arms across his chest and faced you exclusively.

"That sounds like the ‘something new’ we need," he remarked. Then directed, "Go ahead, Miss Potts. I'm listening."

 

***

 

Per Tony Stark's instruction, you were put in charge of saving the Seresian hub, which you managed without much difficulty.

After that, you laid down the groundwork for expansion from the hub, out to other countries in the region.

Then you were placed in charge of many other things.

Barely a year later, some paperwork was signed - and you were given the capacity to issue critical decisions as if you were Tony Stark himself.

You could sit in at board meetings, and not just to take minutes. Sign your own name on documents where his signature was expected. Politely decline business offers that didn't suit your vision for the company.

At first you feared it was going to overwhelm you - but it didn't.

"In charge" was a damn good place to be.

Even if, sometimes, you had to make decisions that didn't sit well with you.

Like agreeing to sell arms to all parties involved in a territorial war.

Or arranging to fire high-ranking officials who posed a serious threat to your plans.

Or agreeing to increase the budget for lobbying firms.

Or personally facing the press to issue cold, vague statements regarding plant closures and labor disputes.

These were top-level decisions you had to make, because your very avoidant boss trusted you to make them.

These were the choices you'd insulated him from.

 

***

 

He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He breezed through school mostly due to intelligence, not to effort. He parties too much, skips meetings, changes plans on impulse and passes on decisions he doesn't like making.

In short: he's not you.

You're self-made. You took yourself through school mostly on scholarships and worked hard at every turn. You're steady. Methodical. Realistic.

You and he could not be more different.

And you just can't fall for different.

Especially when, you're aware, he takes advantage of how much you love conflict resolution, how it lets your hardfought talents shine.

He benefits from so many things he doesn't really work hard for. That's become partly your fault.

And yet...

Before you knew it, you've become dependent on that difference. In the many one-on-one out-of-office meetings you and he have, you fill him in, he ignores you (or pretends that he does just because he loves ticking you off), then he dares you to try some new food you would never have tried on your own or some new activity you would never even have considered (ever imagined you'd have a business meeting while skydiving? Apparently, it was in the stars for you).

He has his own passions, plus an insatiable love of knowledge. Giving him the freedom to pursue them is, as far as you're concerned, part of your job description.

He's become a central part of your life: a counterbalance to the routine, the mundane, the real.

Your only respite.

He's the one who cares. About people. About ideals.

The one who can _afford_ to care.

And you need him around to keep caring.

Realizing that was how this whole mess began.

 

***

 

You swore, on your very first day of work at Stark Industries, that you would never become that sort of employee - the kind whose life revolved around her boss. The kind whose identity was tied to whatever he needed at the time.

The kind who won't know what to do if he suddenly vanishes.

And then the worst happens. He goes to Afghanistan to seal a weapons deal, then falls off the radar. He disappears for weeks and weeks.

During these weeks, you feel yourself unraveling.

Adding to the stress of PR hell, where you constantly have to assure and reassure investors and clients that everything at Stark Industries is running well in spite of its high-profile owner's disappearance, you start to think about life without him.

You start to miss his smile and the sound of his voice and you realize that his absence _aches_.

And that keeping quiet about it is killing you.

You find that you have to excuse yourself sometimes because, at odd moments, his absence bears down on you, and you find it hard to breathe.

How much more of this can you take?

This won't do. If it turns out that he’ll never return, you have to bear up. You have to be strong.

You have to manage. The way you always have.

You've got this, Virginia Potts.

You've got this.


End file.
